


Trouble

by itsallaboutzarry



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn (musician)
Genre: Awkward Blind Date, Blind Date, Fluff, Harry's nipples are right there for everyone to admire, Job Interview, Just a general mess of a situation, Louis is somewhat helpful but not really, M/M, and so is Zayn's general gorgeousness like always, and usual dramatics, regular dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-04 10:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14590872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallaboutzarry/pseuds/itsallaboutzarry
Summary: Louis sets Harry up on a blind date with a tattooed bloke. Zayn has a job interview with a Henry. Where could this possibly go wrong?





	Trouble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mmaree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmaree/gifts).



> I hope that this is at least a little bit of what you had in mind with this prompt, because I really did love writing it. I also did a bit of a fluffy ending of ridiculous proportions, I hope you don't mind, but I couldn't resist.  
> Thank you a million to Amanda, do I even need to say I'd be useless without your help? Because I most certainly would be.  
> And endless thanks to the mods for organizing everything and being generally the best, as always. I feel like it's time we all give you a mountain of presents.  
> Title is from Cage the Elephant's Trouble, for no other reason than it happened to come on shuffle while I was writing this.

_“You'll love him.”_

_“It's a first date, Lou.”_

_“Yeah, but I'm telling you, he’s perfect.”_

_“I'm not going to believe you until I actually meet him.”_

_“And then you'll come kissing me all over, because you'll love me so.”_

_“Yeah, right.”_

_“He'll have a black shirt on and tattoos all up and down his arm.”_

_“What's his name?”_

_“Nope, not telling you that.”_

_“What? Why?”_

_“To savour the mystery.”_

_“Louis.”_

_“Nope.”_

_“Come on.”_

_Louis smirks and winks at him. Harry knows better than to try again._

xx

There’s a good eighty-seven percent chance that the guy, whose name Harry still doesn’t know, because Louis likes games way too much for anyone's benefit, will be one of the ones who does improv with Louis on Saturday nights. And Harry’s been to see the performances. Those eighty-seven percent don't bode well for him.

Not that the guys there aren’t great and nice, but two of them have already come up to Harry to buy him a drink after their ‘grand performance’ so he knows they can be sort of, maybe, potentially okay. Except for how it’s those two times that make Harry apprehensive. He doesn’t want the repeat of Kevin, who referred to himself as Kevin, third person and all, and he definitely has all of his fingers and toes crossed it’s not Russell. Harry doesn’t want to spend another night hearing all about his three pomeranians.

Harry’s open minded though, mostly because he has to be when it comes to Lou, but also because he hasn’t been on an actual good first date that led to a second date - or anything else at all either - in more months than he’d be willing to say out loud. It’s sad is what it is.

Harry has got his skinniest jeans on, the ones he can barely sit down in, a nice silky flowy shirt opened down to his belly button, because he knows how to sell himself, and that’s best done wearing his favorite top that isn't as pink as everyone likes to point out. And he even did his hair. Or he left his sunglass and banana clips at home like Louis made him promise he would. The way Louis had gotten teary eyed as he walked out of their apartment was definitely a much needed and greatly appreciated ego boost.

It’s not the going on a date that has him biting his nails to the quick in the back of the uber. Harry can do flirty, he can laugh all bubbly sweet and he’s a great listener when he wants to be. It’s the finding a guy he wants to go on a second date with, that doesn’t live in his mother’s basement as an actual life choice and not because life is hard sometimes and you make do with what you can, that’s the bigger issue. Though Jonas was lovely, if Harry can overlook the whole basement thing and then the weirdly bizarre obsession with fish he decided to share five minutes after they first met.

The uber takes Harry straight to the restaurant. It's not something he'd pick out, a bit too fancy and formal for a blind date, but maybe it means whoever he's meeting doesn't have improv as their only source of income. Not that that's important, but Harry does like the fantasy of being someone's kept boyfriend. Really though, he’d take standing in front of a kebab shop and getting sauce all over the front of his shirt if it meant he’d be interested in seeing the guy a second time. He’s had nightmares of puppets chasing after him after Mitchell invited him back to his. It really has been months and months.

There's no one sitting alone at a table with an arm full of tattoos, which is a shame, because now Harry has the time to sit by himself and worry if the shirt really is too pink and then if Mitchell is possibly still popping up randomly at the same places he is, completely and utterly by coincidence. Not waiting there for Harry. Not even a little bit.

It's not though, it can't be, the shirt is more of a peach than a diluted strawberry. And Harry hasn’t seen Mitchell in a few weeks now. Actually, he should maybe check up on him, see if he’s still so sensitive about calling his puppets marrionets. Not that he knows the difference.

Harry’s just about worried his way through his lip when he walks in, the black shirt and arm full of tattoos, but then there’s also buzzed off hair and an actual nose stud that makes Harry swallow down the _thank god, thank you so much, I love you Louis_ , because _god._

The chair skids on the floor in Harry’s haste to get up and wave him over, this guy that’s walking right towards him and is prettier with every step he takes, trying to desperately catch his attention and get this date on its way.

The guy is on the phone and as he approaches the table, he holds a finger up to Harry with a mouthed ‘sorry’ that Harry waves off, because _wow._ Louis did good.

He’s tall, dressed in all black and when he smiles at whoever he’s talking to on the phone, Harry’s taken back by it, which is absolutely ridiculous and Louis will definitely never hear about this, but it’s there and it’s happening and Harry doesn’t know why but his tongue suddenly feels out of place in his own mouth.

“Hi. You must be Henry.” He’s turned towards Harry with a hand already outstretched and a gorgeous smile on his face and he is so gorgeous Harry needs a second to make his mouth work.

“Hi, yes. Or no. I’m Harry, just, Harry.”

First he frowns, then he nods and says, “I’m Zayn Malik.” His hand is gripping Harry’s in a firm shake that Harry can’t really reciprocate, because he might be going all squishy at the edges. He knows he’s already a blushing mess.

But then Harry whispers, “Zayn,” a bit too dreamy and too longingly, like he’s saying it in his head and not right to Zayn’s face, which is not something that’s considered acceptable first date behaviour and also nothing he's ever done before, so Harry cannot for the life of him believe he's doing it now. He chuckles and feels himself blush deeper. “Zayn, hi.”

“Shall we?”

Harry nods and shivers all over as they both take their seats.

It’s less than a second later that he’s flopping the napkin over his lap and leaning forward on his elbow, getting right to it. “So, Zayn.”

The only reason why it isn’t awkward is because Harry thrives in weird situations he makes for himself. It’s the fastest way to come across as cheeky and endearing. Above all else, Harry can always pull off endearing.

It’s when they move past the whole, “Traffic is so bad at this hour,” and the, “No, no, I take the tube, I’ve never even been in an Uber, I don’t think,” that it gets awkward. Or maybe just weird. Just a little.

“Can I ask how old you are?” Because Etien had twenty-seven written on his profile and though he looked the same as his photo, he was more of a thirty years after version in real life.

Zayn frowns. “Um, okay, yeah. Sure. I’m twenty-six.”

Harry beams. “I’m twenty-four.”

“Oh?” His frown goes straight from caught off guard to confused. “I thought you were twenty-six too?”

“Did Lou tell you that?”

“Who?”

“No, nevermind.” Harry shakes his head, because of course he doesn’t want to talk about Louis right now. He’s well aware their friendship can be a bit of a puppet sitting in a mother’s basement, so he should hold off on that one. “So what do you do?”

The waiter comes right when Zayn’s about to answer. They order their soups and salads of the day. Harry gets them a plate of chips to share. He can probably eat a chip in a cheeky way. It wouldn’t be the first time and before they get them on the table, he’ll be able to suss out if Zayn would appreciate that sort of thing anyway. He’s dressed to impress, so there’s no use fooling anyone into thinking he’s a blushing virgin. _It’s been actual months._

“Well,” Zayn gets right to it after the waiter leaves. “My primary position includes final edits and the cover artwork design, but today I’m sort of in the hiring side of things as well.” He offers Harry the smallest, gentlest smiles.

It blindsides him just a little. “Um.”

“And actually, we’re looking for someone to copy-edit and line-edit, that sort of thing. Do some research maybe.”

It sounds like it would be a great opportunity for Harry when it comes down to it, actually, but even if he hates his job and he’d be blissed out happy if he never sees another instructional manual about setting up your washing machine ever in his life, he doesn’t want to turn their date into a scourging for a job.

“I do some research at my current job,” Harry shrugs, playing with the napkin in his lap. It’s not that he’s embarrassed by his job, but it’s not exactly where he’d thought he’d be at twenty-four - in the middle of a step-by-step how-to on homemade store-bought-strong insect repellents. “I’m, like, writing technical manual and, things.”

“That’s great,” Zayn lights up and nods at Harry like he wants him to go on. He even leans in, but Harry just nods and smiles because, that’s it. There’s nothing more to it.

“My sister does freelance writing online.” It’s a highlight of his family, Gemma’s success, so Harry focuses on that instead. “But I never got into the whole reading on my laptop or phone thing.”

“Prefer paper?” Zayn asks with an easy sort of laugh that warms something up in Harry.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Me to. I love an old book, all bookmarked and dog-eared.”

“Exactly.” Not that Harry spends a lot of time reading these days, not with so many trash reality shows he and Louis keep up with. The new Love Island is supposed to be proper good.

“Most of what we do is on computers, though, of course.”

“Right.”

“So that wouldn’t be a problem?”

It should be, Harry is about ninety-seven perfect sure the question is a big red flag, but instead of saying an ‘excuse you?’ like he probably should, they blink at each other three times and only stop because the waiter is back with their food.

Harry clears his throat while thanking the guy, and says, “I probably need to get glasses for like, looking at the screen or something,” to stay on the subject, or rather, in the vicinity of it.

“Oh, yeah,” it startells a laughs out of Zayn, “I have three pairs.”

“Three?”

“Um, well,” Zayn colors. It’s a wonderful look for him, Harry decides around a bite of his salad. “I’m not like the most organized person, so I keep them around. Like, a pair in my bag, then ones at work and another at home.”

The thought nearly makes Harry squirm with giddiness. He has a crush. He’s met Zayn not even an hour ago and he is crushing and crashing and it’s going better that he thought. “I’m the same with chargers.”

“I’m just like that in general, can’t keep track of anything.”

“Louis says I should be happy I can’t lose my head or I would’ve already.”

Zayn laughs and throws out, “Hope you’re not like that at work,” casually, around yet another bright smile.

“Kind of am,” Harry shrugs, “Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Um…” the smile melts like an icicle left out in the sun too long.

Powering through, because none of his dates has ever had that kind of expression on their faces, even when he lied to Lionel and told him he was deathly allergic to his fifteen cats, Harry asks down at his food, “What about you? Do you have any siblings?” It’s a bit of a left fielder, he knows, but he’d rather not talk about how boring his job is and how even if it’s not much, he’s not as good at it as he’d like to think.

Zayn swallows around his soup with a choked up sound. “Yes, actually. I really, um - I have three. Sisters.”

“Are you close?”

“I guess?”

It’s not exactly like pulling teeth, but it's a close thing. Harry takes a different route.

“I idolized my sister growing up, her name's Gemma. It was hard when she left for uni, felt a bit like she was leaving me behind as well, you know?”

Zayn hums, but he’s looking down at his soup too. They must look ridiculous, staring at the table while Harry tries to talk around the gaping hole that’s eching _awkward, awkward, awkward_ , back at them.

“Think I worked harder just to make sure I was going to be able to follow her, you know?”

Zayn gives him another hum, but after a second or two he looks up finally and smiles as well.

“I miss my sisters. Miss my whole family, really. They’re back in Bradford and I’m… well. I guess I’m right here. So that’s- Yeah. I miss them.”

This time it’s Harry who can’t help but offer a sad little smile. “This might make me sound weird, but. I talk to my mum every week. Or like,” Harry blushes. “Every day, usually. We’re close and, that made it easier when Gems left and it was just us two.”

Zayn shrugs and with what is an unapologetic tone, says, “Me too.”

“So we’re a couple of mumma’s boys, huh?”

“Through and through.” It’s the moment Harry pulls out his most charming lopsided smile and by the way it’s mirrored on Zayn, it’s working like a charm. It’s also the moment Harry’s just glad he’s managed to make Zayn smile at all. It’s interesting, that. Harry wants to do it again.

He watches as Zayn shakes his head like he’s trying to shake the smile off. When he focuses back on Harry, he’s serious and composed. “So. How long have you been at your current job?”

It’s a weird question that doesn’t really fit in the moment, but Harry tries his best to go along with it. “A year and a half, not even.”

“So I got that wrong too.”

“What?”

Zayn looks at him for a moment and then sighs. “Nothing. What about,” Zayn looks around, thinking for a moment before he asks, “Pets. Do you have any pets?”

“Oh no. Is this the part where you tell me you’re like a bird collector or something?”

Zayn snorts. “Does that happen a lot to you?”

“You wouldn’t believe if I told you. But no, no pets. You?”

“I want a dog, but with my job and all, I don’t know.”

“What breed would you get?” Zayn gives him a wide eyed and a bit of a confused look, so Harry explains, “It’s important. Like your star sign, right? It’s supposed to say something about you.”

“Oh, well in that case, I’m a capricorn, whatever that tells you and um, I don’t really care? Just, a regular dog?”

“Hmm.” Harry doesn’t actually know anything about star signs that aren’t his, but Louis is a capricorn so that’s probably good. “I think I see you with a pitbull or somesuch. Or a pug.”

“A pitbull?”

“Yeah, I mean.” Harry very clearly and as obviously as he possibly can, traces his eyes from the top of his head, over that stud in his nose and the black shirt that’s tight around his shoulders, the tattoos on both of his arms, even his fingers, and back up to Zayn’s eyes. “You know.”

“Are you judging a book by it’s cover?”

Harry very nearly snorts a piece of tomato through his nose. “No, god no. You just look the part.”

“This is my best interview outfit.” Zayn’s looking down at himself, which is great really, because then Harry can too. “But then you,” he points at Harry’s chest. “You’re here half naked.”

Though he blushes, of course he does, and it’s not like his bare chest is exactly missable, Harry still feels like he should tuck the shirt closed. Or at least do up a button or two. Instead, he decides to go for some bravado. “It’s making you look, though, right?”

“Excuse me?” Zayn laughs, but it’s mixed with a tinge of something else.

“I mean.” It’s the perfect time to get self-conscious about the color of his shirt again, so of course Harry shivers. He swears a whoosh of wind swoops by and chills him enough for his skin to prickle. Maybe leaving only two buttons done wasn’t his best idea. He can do this, he can. Power through. Worst comes to worst, he’ll just be celibate and call it a day. Or call Kevin. Kevin wasn’t that bad. “It’s my favorite shirt and you can’t help but look, so.”

“It’s - I’m - Maybe, but I wouldn’t exactly wear it to a job interview.”

Harry snorts, “I wouldn’t either.”

“Um…” The confusing frown is back in its place on Zayn’s face. “Aren’t you, though?”

“No? I wouldn’t have my nipples out for a job interview,” Harry says, as if he even needs to, because really, he knows he has some interesting if not questionable outfits in his closet, but none of those are for an interview of any kind. Dates, though, where it’s all first impressions this and ‘want to come back to mine’ that, this outfit is more than suitable.

“Harry, I’m - I’m so far beyond confused right now.” Zayn leans back in his seat and puts his palm against his forehead. He sighs heavily too and all of it makes the perfect picture for exactly how Harry feels.

“Yeah, you and me both.”

“Okay, look. I think you’re wonderful and um, your nipples are great, but-”

“Wait.”

In this moment of time, Harry wishes it was Kevin sitting opposite him, third person and all, because at least then the questions Zayn has asked during their lunch wouldn’t be coming back to him like a flood of an unsettling taste in his mouth and a turning stomach. Kevin would talk about Kevin and everything that Kevin does, which probably doesn’t include much more than the improv group. Harry definitely wouldn’t be sitting opposite a hot, pretty guy, who’s staring at him like he’s at least grown another head in the last two minutes.

“You’re… Do you know a Louis?”

“Louis?”

“Yeah, Tomlinson. Short, loud, can be sweet if he wants to be?”

“Err?”

“Oh, god. Oh _god_.”

“So you’re not-”

“Henry? No.”

They both settle into the horrid realization that this isn’t what they think it is.

“My friend, or, former friend, Louis, he set me up on a blind date with a,” Harry traces his eyes over Zayn again. This cannot be his own fault. “A guy in a black shirt and tattoos all over his arm.”

“Right.” Zayn looks at those tattoos like they’ve betrayed him. “So I guess you’re not the twenty-six year old Henry I’m supposed to meet for his job interview then?”

“No, but if the position is open-”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work.” Zayn sighs again and without blinking it seems like, keeps his eyes on his plate and just thinks. Or maybe he doesn’t even do that, maybe his mind is completely blank as he stares down at the table, but it gives Harry a wonderful opportunity to get what’s more than likely his last fill of Zayn.

It’s just… Zayn looks the way that he does and since Harry isn’t blind, he can appreciate the cut of his jaw and how he kept licking over his bottom lip. Up until now, Harry thought it was a move of some kind. He works in practically the same line of business than Harry does, though admittedly, his job description sounds eons better than Harry’s. And from how he wants a regular dog to how he talks to his mom just as much as Harry does - plus the lack of puppets, though Harry can’t be sure of that until he’s standing in his living room - this wasn’t the worst date Harry’s ever been on.

If he’s being honest with himself, it’s probably been the best one in months. Maybe even the entire year.

So, like Harry does most of the things in his life, but especially the kinds that look too good to be true even to his naive little eye, he says, “Are you single?”

Zayn shakes out of his stare. “What?”

“I don’t want to be presumptuous, so stop me at any time.” Harry pauses for effect and so that Zayn actually can stop him before he embarrasses himself completely. When he doesn’t even twitch, Harry asks again, “Are you single? Because as far as blind dates go, I actually had fun?”

Zayn clears his throat. It even sounds dry. “As far as interviews, it wasn’t the best.”

“I can imagine.” Harry tries not to blush.

“You really threw me with that sister thing.”

“Oh, god,” Harry groans. “I can’t believe you didn’t stop me.”

“Have you seen you?” Zayn asks a little wildly. “I mean… You’re kind of, cute, I guess, so I didn’t… You’re nipples are _right_ _there_ , too.”

“I was on a blind date,” he says just to make that crystal clear. “So my nipples are right where they need to be.”

“I guess as far as interviews go, it wasn’t the worst either,” Zayn concedes with a smile that grows from timid to wide. “And yes, I’m single.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Zayn agrees. He takes another look down at his soup before he’s shrugging. “Should we finish this date then?”

Without answering, Harry calls over the waiter and orders them a not too cheap, but not the best bottle of red wine. They keep ducking their heads and smiling at each other like the idiots they apparently are until they have their glasses and they both take two big sips to settle down.

“What about Henry?”

“I’ll call him later, apologize.”

Harry tusks. “That’s bad form for someone who’s sort of incharge of hiring for the day.”

“I’m not,” Zayn laughs and Harry can actually see his shoulders relax. He breathes out and lets himself do the same. “Not really though. I’m standing in for Aimee.”

“Next thing you’re gonna tell me you don’t have sisters,” Harry jokes, back to having a better handle on the situation and thankful for not having to avoid out of place job related questions anymore.

“No, I do, all three of them.” Zayn blushes a bit and tries to hide it by ducking down his head. “And I do really miss them. A lot.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, but he’s smiling and Zayn’s smiling back at him. When silence settles around them, it isn’t sweaty or heavy or running down Harry’s neck. It’s really rather comfortable.

After they’ve finished their soups and salads of the days, and Harry finally notices those chips never did make it to their table, Zayn asks a quiet, “So, has this date been worthy or getting your number?”

“Hmm.” Harry laughs at Zayn’s wide eyes. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good, that’s, yeah, good.”

Harry looks at him for a second and then asks with only a hint of a smirk, “Are you nervous?”

Zayn swallows. “No?”

“I think you are.”

“I’m not nervous. You’re just, you know,” he waves his hand around in Harry’s general direction.

“I’m what?”

“Hot,” Zayn whispers, like it’s a secret, and there he goes, blushing again. It’s all stupidly cute. Harry probably shouldn’t get Zayn’s number in return or else he’ll end up texting him right as he gets back home and that’s embarrassing for everyone involved, but mostly himself, because he could never hold himself back when faced with someone as good looking and sweet as Zayn.

“So are you,” he whispers back, because it’s nothing if not true. “Like, gorgeous.”

“But you’re-”

“Have you seen your jawline?” He’s only making Zayn flush in a livelier red, but it doesn’t look like he’s intent on making Harry stop any time soon. “And your eyes? Do you know you have freckles on your nose _and_ your eye as well?”

“I’m - Yeah, I do.”

“So it’s settled then,” Harry grins, “We’re both hot, we both know we’re hot, and you’re definitely calling me in two days so we can go on a second date?”

Zayn grins back at Harry with his entire face, nose and all and says, “Yes, definitely.”

xx

_“Will you relax?”_

_“I will most definitely not.”_

_“What are you nervous for, anyway?”_

_“I’m not nervous, I’m just…”_

_“Are you happy? For me? Is that why you’re so… Mushy?”_

_“Don’t be stupid. I’ll be happy when you move out-”_

_“Or when Zayn moves in.”_

_“He would be a great roommate, wouldn’t he?”_

_“Oh, no. No, stop it, don’t look at me like that, it’s not happening.”_

_“But Harry. Think of how much fun we could have.”_

_“No, absolutely not.”_

xx

“So.”

“So.”

Harry laughs and shakes his head as he unfolds the napkin over his lap. “It’s Zayn, is it? Tell me a little about yourself. What are your aspirations? How are your organizational skills?”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“I’m being dead serious,” Harry’s still grinning at him though, not that it matters. The joke isn’t old yet and it’s been a year. Exactly a year. A year of Harry throwing fits over the messes Zayn leaves behind in the forms of lost socks and shirts all over the floor, and piles and piles of printed-out books on any flat surface Zayn can find that isn’t a table or a desk, in both his own apartment and Harry’s room. A year of Zayn telling Harry over and over, more intensely each time, that he should quit his job if it makes him so miserable and reminding him that not everyone, including Zayn who’s right at the top of that list, appreciates his flirtatious behaviours at all times and places, which include but aren’t limited to the A&E when Louis practically fractured his entire arm in half trying to skateboard in the kitchen, Zayn’s boss at his Christmas work party and Zayn’s dad. Harry will take the blame for all of them except the last one. It’s not his fault he can’t resist the Malik charm. “Come on, you’re blowing your chance here.”

“It’ll be the only thing I’m blowing tonight, that’s for sure.”

Harry pouts. “Don’t be mean.”

“Then don’t poke fun.”

“Fine. I’m sorry for trying to lighten the mood.”

“Actually, um, I have something to ask you,” Zayn says all serious, his face going all pale and blank from one second to the next. Now, Harry knows it means he’s nervous and trying not to show it rather than just uninterested. Knowing that does nothing to calm Harry down.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, everything’s alright.”

“Great.” Harry’s smile has never felt more forced. “So, what do want to know?”

“Okay. God. Okay,” Zayn straightens in his seat and clears his throat. He reaches for Harry’s hand and tangles their fingers together. Harry’s hands are sweaty and warm and maybe if Zayn was breaking up with him, he’d cringe, but he doesn’t. Zayn just smiles wide and then asks, all in a rush, “I haven’t talked to Lou about this, so we’d have to ask, but would you move in with me?”

Harry blinks and then blinks again. “Would I-?”

“Move in with me?” Zayn says again, gentler this time. Now his hands are warm too. “I don’t know how Louis would take it, you leaving, but-” Zayn keeps talking, not that Harry hears any of it. He’s too focused on the fact that Zayn wants to live with him and his inability to not flirt more than he breathes and though he’s going to hate every single sock on _their_ bedroom floor, Harry says, “Yes. Yes, yes I’d love to live with you,” right over Zayn.

Zayn’s eyes crinkle with his smile, but Harry doesn’t look at it for too long, because he’s leaning over the table and only falling down on his face a little, because Zayn’s got his hands on his shoulders and he’s bringing him closer too, so that Harry can kiss him.

He has to remind himself that they’re in public when Zayn nips at his lip, and it’s with a reluctant groan that he sits back down, Zayn laughing at him throughout the entire thing.

“What if you moved in with me?”

“Yeah?” Zayn grins.

“My place’s bigger. And it has a Louis that would be very happy to have you live there.”

“Are you sure?” Zayn ducking his head down, but Harry says, “Absolutely. This weekend. Let’s do it.”

“My lease isn’t up until the end of the next month.”

Harry waves him off with his free hand, because he’s not letting him go anytime soon. “Okay.” Harry nods. “Let’s still do it this weekend.”

Zayn shakes his head, but he isn’t saying no. Instead, he’s saying, “Okay, babe. Let’s do it.”

“You and me. And Louis.”

It’s a happy thought until Zayn’s eyes gleam over and sparkle with something that Harry’s come to recognize as mischief and absolutely unadulterated stupid boy mania.

“No, stop looking at me like that. This will be cordial. No ‘bus one’ nonsense.”

“Yeah, no,” Zayn’s eyes are still glowing, but if that’s how he looks when they all live together, skateboarding in the kitchen or not, it’ll be okay. It’ll definitely be worth it, Harry knows that much. “Definitely not.”

“Mmm.” Harry shakes his head and squeezes Zayn’s fingers. He smirks and winks at Zayn. “You want to hear about my organizational skills now?”

Zayn snorts. “What organizational skills, babe?”

Harry, predictably, whines an outraged, “Hey,” and they both end up laughing right as the waiters comes to take their order.

xx

_“Louis, we have something to tell you.”_

_“Oh no. No you don’t Harry Styles,” Louis lurches to his feet with a finger pointed right at Harry’s nose. “We moved in here together and you’re leaving me for this schmuck over my dead body.”_

_“Lou-”_

_“Doesn’t our friendship mean anything to you? I’ll_ starve to death _,” he wails, actually wails. “I’ll perish to dust in the middle of this stuffy yet spacious and lovely living room. Is that what you want? Huh?”_

_“Zayn’s moving in with us.”_

_There’s a moment of silence where no one moves, because Harry and Zayn are waiting to see what Louis does next with something like an expectant apprehension. Zayn bet he’d throw a party and Harry said he’d cry._

_In the end, Louis climbs on top of them on the couch and yells out, “Best day ever!” over and over again. “We have to-” Louis hiccups. Here come the tears. “We have to make an occasion of it. Throw a grand house warming party for our Malik.” He sniffs into Harry’s shoulder and squeezes his arm around Zayn’s neck. “Our Malik,” he says again and over his head, Harry noods at Zayn._

_Their Malik._

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr.](http://www.itsallaboutzarry.tumblr.com)


End file.
